


This Tapestry Here On My Skin

by Lina_Muro



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Cutting, Drabble, Other, Self Harm, Soulmate AU, Soulmate marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 12:10:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13434453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lina_Muro/pseuds/Lina_Muro
Summary: Mollymauk knew, just as deeply he ever knew anything, that stories of soul mates were just lies that slipped from people's mouths, spilling like water over rocks. They tumbled effortlessly from every living creature, because none of them ever saw anything really. Very few people ever knew anything more than the ground beneath their feet and liquor in their bellies. They never really saw the world, or the awful things that 'destiny' led to.





	This Tapestry Here On My Skin

The stories say everyone has the words. Like tiny rays of hope etched lightly into their skin, shining their way into an uncertain world. There were so many things they could mean too. Family. A lover. A friend. A stepping stone to happiness. A necessary mistake. Destiny. 

The stories said so many things about soul marks and their magics. 

But Mollymauk knew, just as deeply he ever knew anything, that stories of soul mates were just lies that slipped from people's mouths spilling like water over rocks. They tumbled effortlessly from every living creature, because none of them ever saw anything really. Very few people ever knew anything more than the ground beneath their feet and liquor in their bellies. They never really saw the world, or the awful things that 'destiny' led to. 

Molly didn't have words. There were no markings on his lavender skin that he couldn't tell you exactly where each came from. He could name every scratch, every bump, every slit, and every line of every raised, ugly, scarred marking. And none of them spoke to him. 

It would probably be equally accurate to say that Molly wouldn't have trusted the soul marks even if you could find them. 

It was only a coincidence, he reasoned, that caused him to flinch anytime someone called out “Hey, tiefling!” it was a very common thing for anyone to say to a tiefling, after all. And that he found himself reaching for his neck simply meant that his tattoo, inked over layers of raised and scarred skin, itched. 

As the older human spoke to him, asking for more information about the flier, Molly forced himself to relax. He fell back onto a personality learned and fought hard for. He was charming. He was coquettish. Lavender fingers traced the blue lines more heavily. He was a peacock, and by the infernal he would act like it. 

If his companion Yasha noticed his slip in cmposure, she didn’t mention it as he veered them into a bar, looking carefully for patrons to entice to come to the carnival. He had inquired once before to his ringmaster why send a tiefling and a giant out to hand out the fliers? He was answered with a sheepish grin. “You’re an anomaly. Part of a freak show. People wanna see freaks, so we give ‘em a taste.” It was an acceptable and honest answer. 

So Mollymauk schmoozed his way across the bar, surprising himself when he came face to face with another tiefling, a spunky little thing with a thick accent. He expected her to be amusing, as many of his kind were, but he didn't expect familiar words to spill from her lips. 

“We saw your tent going up!” 

Only habit and coin got Molly through the rest of the conversation. His palms went clammy. His heart began to race. Hands shook as he shuffled his cards. He wanted to panic. He wanted to run and scream. His world went black again. 

“Well you are all the most charming people I’ve met in...yes…” 

Yasha found him again, hours later, huddled in the back of the tent, muttering, scratching and rocking. Cold water brought him back not long after. He had blood on his fingers, caked under his nails, and the snake tattoo on his wrist was bleeding. 

“Molly?” the large woman asked. 

“They saw our tent going up.” he whispered. He started to scratch his arm again, nails digging into the flesh. Yasha grabbed his hands, and he looked up at her, red eyes wild. “Yasha, something is changing tonight.” 

Yasha laid her hands across his face to calm him. “The words don’t mean anything, Molly.” 

His gaze was suddenly fierce, and he stood up. “I don't have any words, I told you that.” 

“You did.” 

"Those are words on you, not me." 

"Yup." 

“I need to go get ready.” 

“Yup.” 

“This wasn’t-”

“I know.” 

He left Yasha behind, embroidered cloak swishing dramatically. Yasha huffed, but her hand almost unintentionally brushed her bracer, where the barest hint of a phrase could be seen, penned in bright blue ink. The peacock would be fine. 

After all, everyone leaves their mark somewhere.

**Author's Note:**

> This is waaaaay OOC from what we've seen so far, and it is in fact very little we've had to go on, but I guess we know that Molly has major trauma. but I love soulmate mark stuff, so here ya go. A soulmate AU drabble in which I imply that Mollymauk self mutilates to remove his soulmate marks. For angst purposes.


End file.
